


Protagonists of the world

by Mediocredumbass



Category: Haikuu!, anime - Fandom
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29665521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mediocredumbass/pseuds/Mediocredumbass
Summary: Idk what to put here it would ruin part of the story sooo just dive right in:))
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Kudos: 1





	Protagonists of the world

The day was serene. A bright blue cloudless sky stretched to infinity. A mirrored clear lake underneath it. In the lake, under the sky sat a house. It was white with bare walls and cream floors, made of a material that was unknown. But it was smooth and pristine, not a scratch marring it’s surface.

There were many windows in the house. All clear and clean, a light blue tinge reflecting the sky, letting the sun leak in through the panes. Lazy waves lapped against the pearly white sand surrounding the house. There was nothing in sight. Nothing but miles and miles that the lake stretched. Except a tree. It was overgrown with long thin branches dangled into the shallow water below. 

Under those branches sat a man. 

He had black hair and bright pale skin. He wore nothing but a plain cotton shirt and pants, both of which were dark with water. He did not know his name, or who he was, only that this was his home, and he should not dare leave it. Light shines through the leaves above him, coming from a hidden sun, leaving dappled light flitting across the still water below him. He could not tell how much time had passed, the sun did not set, night did not come and go. Only the same persistent light unchanging on the water.

Hunger was the only thing that moved him, told him to stand. To walk back to the house, leaving wet footprints on the sand. He passed under an archway, unending white walls curved around forming winding halls and high ceilings, all leading to a large room. With deep couches and soft pillows that welcomed him, shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books in languages he could not understand, characters that were unfamiliar. He passed through the room, going to another. 

He thought it might be called a kitchen, white flat counters lined the wall, bright, lush plants that never needed to be watered sitting atop it. He opened the large cabinet that held the food, it always surprised him how cold it was, blasts of air creating goosebumps along his skin.

He didn’t eat often, perhaps— there was no measure of time, only the passing hands on a small clock in the other room, time he did not wish to know, something that might be real, might be fake. 

He had lost interest long ago.

He closed the cabinet, the same bland foods were only staring him down, unappealing in their grey boxes and white tins. He resigned to grabbing an apple from the counter, a small bowl that never seemed to run empty holding the fruit so gently so it might not break.

He sighed, walking back outside, coming to stand on a covered deck, made of an orange wood, perhaps it was taken from the tree. What a sad thought. Out of everything in this world the tree was the only thing that brought him happiness anymore. 

The man stared into the water, watching as it rippled across the shore. He stepped into it, letting the waves lap against the still wet bottoms of his trousers. He set the uneaten apple on the deck, taking a few steps into the waves, a warm sea breeze washing over his face. He took a few more steps, hesitant. Then he took a few more, then his steps had no stall, and he was running, bare feet hitting the sand, water spraying around him. He ran until his legs gave out, sending him into the waves. The water never grew deeper, a flat expanse of clear liquid that sat undisturbed until his form interrupted its peace.

He laid down in the lake, letting his upper body float, letting the water rush over his ears and eyes, blocking out the world.

He stayed there for a long while, not wanting to end the feeling of euphoria running had brought him. Eventually he did move, opening his eyes to the same blue sky, same water, same clothes—not surprising. There was not a reason for anything to change, yet— he found himself saddened by it, deep down the hope of something new. 

But all he did was stand, running a hand through his hair. It nearly reached his shoulders, falling in messy strands around his head. His hair was short once, he could remember that, a time where his hair only tickled the tops of his ears, nothing more.

Water streamed down his back, mixing with the water dripping from his shirt. He could still see the house, it looked small, insignificant, his whole world, able to fit between his fingers. He laughed, shaking his head, looking in the other direction. He had never tried to go farther, or— perhaps he had and he just couldn’t remember. Time blurred together, there was no darkness, somehow a familiar concept, something he knew was supposed to be natural in the world and yet— night never came. The pale light from his hidden sun forever shining down.

Wind again brushed against his skin, pulling him away from the house. He took a step, then just like before he was running. Arms pumping at his sides, gasping breaths as his feet flew through the water. His face grew into a smile, air whipping through his ears. For a moment everything felt good, his mind clear, the burning in his body enough to wash everything else away.

He turned back, throwing a look over his shoulder. The house was a speck, a bump on the horizon. He stopped, gasping for air as he laughed. No he had never done this before, and perhaps he would start to do it more often.

Break away. Be free if only for a moment. Deep in his bones he knew the way back, knew that if his body worked he could return. It was somehow comforting— yet not. He shook his head, lifting it from his bow over his knees. 

There was something— his eyes locked onto another bump on the lake, but it was— different. He launched into a run again, vying to reach it as if it might disappear. The figure came into focus— a person. His mouth flew open as he ran, a cry of joy— relief— question— escaping his lips. The figure turned, a man, he was tall and muscular, pale skin illuminated by the harsh light. The two stared at each other for a moment, stuck in time, before the man fell, his body hitting the water, sending a spray of foam up into the air.

He made it to the man, turning him over in the water, brushing strands of black and white hair off his face. There were questions already forming in his head. Questions he knew would go unanswered if they were to stay out here.

“Hey—“ his voice cracked, hoarse from disuse. “Wake up.” There was no response. His head was a mess, his hands shaking.

“I have to— I have to.” He mumbled, grabbing the man by his shoulders, his legs shaking as he dragged him through the sand and water.

It was so far from the house, in his fervor he had lost sight of it, completely surrounded by water, the mirrored surface unchanging. He panted, gritting his teeth as he dragged the man, one step after the other. 

——————

The house was again in sight, a staggering relief. His legs and arms were shaking, weak with running and dragging the man behind him. The man was not small, from this angle he could see— well everything, but his face felt familiar. He had large eyes and sharp cheekbones, matched with bushy eyebrows that made him look like he was laughing even while unconscious.

He shook his head, taking another step forward. There was no way in hell that he could know the man. But it was like the house. It was like the man's face had already been in his mind, something that felt so familiar it was like a part of himself. 

He became lost in thought and the burning in his muscles as he brought the man back to the house. Step after step he walked, both of them were sodden. His clothes only weighed him down as he walked. He again looked at the man's face. What might have happened if he hadn’t found him, in all the space of all the places, he was there. As if he were waiting for him. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps he had been drawn to the man, called out to find him.

“Ridiculous.” He muttered.

There was no way something like that had happened. It was just too— too what? He knew nothing of this world, how he came to be, how it came to be. Thinking that maybe a call of fate had stirred him to walk into the lake— is it so far fetched? 

He shook his head again. He was starting to develop a migraine, deep behind his eyes, pain lashing through his temples. All he could focus on was the man, getting him back to the house, not losing his grip on his shoulders.

—————— 

The water started to trickle down, only rising to his ankles. He looked up, the house was so close, only a few meters ahead of him. He sighed in relief, knees weak. 

He staggered into the sand, letting the man fall beside him. He turned his head, body trembling with the effort.

“Are you dead?” He asked, lifting a tentative hand to the man’s mouth letting his shallow breaths escape over his palm. “Good.” He whispered, standing on his still shaking legs.

He went inside, grabbing one of the long curtains from a window, and returning to the sand. The man hadn’t moved, the water brushing over his ankles. He laid the curtain beside him, rolling him onto it, grunting. He stood, grabbing the end of the curtain and dragging it behind him into the house. His wet feet slapped against the floor as he walked. He hauled the man to the couch, setting him down on the plush carpet. 

“How—“ he started staring at the man. His body was so tired, over exerted to its maximum. 

“I can’t.” He mumbled, squatting down on his heels.   
“I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.” He repeated to himself.

But he looked up, pressing his lips together. He stood, grabbing the man by his shoulders. He pulled him up, getting the top half of his body onto the couch. He stopped, pulling back from the man. He was slumped off the couch, slowly sliding down.

“Shit.” He muttered, rushing to pull the man's legs onto the couch. 

He managed, and stepped back, falling back onto the floor. He rested his head between his knees, muscles aching. But he was smiling. An odd reaction, he knew, but between the burn in his body and the man in his couch he felt good for the first time since he could remember. A warm breeze brushed against his skin from the open door, bringing with it a new smell. Something subtle and pleasant, something that felt familiar and warm.

His eyes started to close, sleep that was far too tempting gripping his mind. He fought it off, lifting his head every time it fell, fighting to keep his eyes open. But eventually he succumbed to sleep, letting the wind and sun wash over his drying skin.

——————


End file.
